


2 - “Let me help.”

by Banashee



Series: Keep Going (KeGo) December 2019 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Bucky is dealing with some issues. Thankfully, he's not alone.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Series: Keep Going (KeGo) December 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558123
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	2 - “Let me help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This is part two of this small writing challenge that @Banana_Ink and I cooked up.  
> Basically, we came up with 24 prompts, which means 24 stories for 24 days in december. A way to cope with NaNoWriMo trauma, but also something short, sweet and relaxed to keep up a writing habit without stressing too much.
> 
> Check out the prompts, and most of all @Banana_Ink as well! She will be writing for her BNHA AU.
> 
> https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/189288814786/keep-going-december-kego

**2 - “Let me help.”**

The air in this room is hot and dry from the boiling heater, but Bucky feels frigid and he's shivering and shaking under too many blankets. A thin layer of sweat drenches his hair and face, makes the back of his shirt cling onto him uncomfortably, but he feels like his bones must be frozen, waiting to shatter like glass when he as much moves wrong.

Bucky is twisting and turning in his sleep, muttering and flinching. Then he wakes up with a strangled scream, hands clasped tightly over his mouth. He looks around the room with huge eyes, burrowing deeper in the blankets as if they protect him from the world.

He's alone in a large, dark bedroom. It's tinted in a very low, faint light. Only a little bit of the street lamps and the moon over New York City is filtered through the window, something he worked out with JARVIS, and also a small night light in the corner by the door.

Bucky was embarrassed about that one at first, because what is he going to say to explain this, should anyone ever find out, a grown man needing a night light? It sounds almost laughable, but then he found out that it's nothing unusual here in this tower, where words like “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”, “Depression” and “Coping mechanism” are casually mentioned at the dinner table. It makes him feel understood and a little bit less alone, but...

He doesn't want to bother anyone.

Bucky keeps his quarters very clean, doesn't have many possessions. It's part habit, what with him growing up in the Great Depression and being in the army, but his main reason to live like this is that it's much, much easier to keep track of a room when there is no clutter.

He immediately knows when something changed, immediately knows when somebody entered the place while he was gone. Which isn't always a bad thing, he's learned, even though he knows he's safe here and no one in this place intends to hurt him.

One day, he returned from a therapy session and noticed that someone came by while he was gone – frantically, he'd started searching the apartment for any sign of danger, ready to fight whoever or whatever is the threat, only to find that there is a worn but remotely familiar sweater folded on his bed. There is a post-it note with Steve's handwriting on it

_This was yours back in the day, I found it in a museum and “borrowed” it back for you.♥_

It made him laugh, and some of the tension disappeared.

Another time, there was a Tupperware container with chocolate chip cookies on his kitchen counter, and a note pinned onto his wall with a garishly purple nerf arrow, which introduced Bucky to the worst chicken scratch he's ever seen in his entire life, but there is no doubt who it's from.

_Come by the shooting range later. Gotta show you some real cool shit :) →_

It's small things, little gestures. Friendly, nothing overwhelming but clearly supportive. All of the other Avengers do it to each other, all the time. And somehow, they include him in this. It still stuns him a bit.

The best thing, however, is the company that comes with living here and most of all the fact that he's still got Steve around, even after almost 100 years.

So he does the logical thing and sends out a quick text to him.

_Are you awake? Can you come over here please?_

A minute later, the door opens and a rumpled looking, but soft and warm Steve enters the room. He steps near the bed, lowers himself onto it and embraces Bucky, who sags against him and huddles closer to absorb the body heat that's radiating off of him.

“Bad night?” he asks and gets a quiet nod in response.

Steve runs one hand through Bucky's dark hair, gently detangling the knots and lightly scratching his scalp with blunt nails.

“Let me help. I'm here for you.”


End file.
